


Eagle Rising

by Star_seeker



Series: The Golden Eagle [1]
Category: DC Animated Universe, DCAU - Fandom, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Blended Continuity, DC does alternate timelines all the dang time so why shouldn't i?, Gen, Origin Story, Origin Story leading into a Fix-It Fic, Self-Indulgent, full of dramatic irony and metahumor, she started out as one but kinda grew into her own character, sort of a self-insert i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11493795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_seeker/pseuds/Star_seeker
Summary: A month after the 2016 invasion by the aliens known as The Reach, the world has begun to recover.  After all, it isn't the first time Earth has been invaded, and it will not be the last.  Life goes on.  In places like Central City, however, life is changed.  The Flash and his sidekick are keeping busy everywhere but their hometown, it seems, although there hasn't been much criminal activity to warrant their attention.  But when trouble starts to brew in a small town nearby, can one girl bring the attention of the wayward heroes to it?  Or will she be forced to take matters into her own hands?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terrible at summaries, but I hope you all enjoy. A huge thanks to my buddy, Azure, for betaing this and convincing me to share my silly self-insert with the world, and to my brother and my dad for getting me into comics as a baby. It's been awhile since I've seen Season Two, so if there's any inconsistencies or plot errors, please let me know. There will be snippets and hints to the events of the DCAU happening in the past, because I loved both shows, and minus one or two things, the shows can kinda fit together. Also I wasn't happy with either ending, so I'm mucking around with timelines and stuff. Anyway, on with the show!

     The girl sighed, leaning against the diner window, her cookies-and-cream milkshake melting in front of her. Cars zipped along the street outside, a blur of colors shining in the August sun. _On their way to bigger and better things than Southwood,_ Bailey thought to herself. She tugged at the sleeve of her yellow-and-white baseball tee. The honeybee mascot of her old school stretched across the already-stretched front. On the other side of the booth, an athletic, dark-haired girl swallowed a french fry and cocked her head to the side.

     "What's the matter, Bales?" She pulled her black braid around to her shoulder, smirking. "Bummed your Ginger Charming wasn't there?"

     Bailey sat up and glared at the girl across from her. Angela had been her friend since their freshman year at Southwood High, and the pair had raised eyebrows all across campus. While Angie was tall and graceful, with long black hair and a healthy-looking tan, Bailey... Wasn't. She, in fact, was short and squarish, sunburned faster than anyone she knew, and had sported a mop of tangled auburn curls until just a few weeks ago. Still, the two had one thing in common, a love of science.

     Bailey shook her head, still unused to the lightness of the haircut. "Angie, you know it wasn't like that between Wally and me. I don't even know if he knows who I am." She leaned on the table, pulling the half-finished milkshake closer and taking a long pull. "I only wanted to beat him in the stupid County Science Fair. That was our last one, thanks to the age limit, and he didn't show up." Bailey shrugged and sat back in the booth seat, the green leather creaking. "After losing to him every year since elementary school, it's kind of a letdown, y'know?"

     Angie nodded, stirring her strawberry shake and eyeing the basket of fries the two were sharing. "I know, Bales. But he hasn't been there for four years or more, now. Did you really think he was coming back for one last hurrah?" She flicked her bangs out of her eyes and took a drink.

     Bailey shrugged. "I would've. And I almost had you talked into it, but you got too busy with sports and stuff."

     Angela paused thoughtfully, purple chandelier earrings swaying. "Point."

     Bailey's phone buzzed. Doctor James was calling.

     "Hello?" Bailey tried to sound happy, or at least not miserable. Whatever pleasant note she found soon faded. "Now? But Doctor-- Only-- I just-- No..." She sighed, resigned. "Yes, sir. I'll be there."

     Angie smiled sympathetically as Bailey hung up. "Work calling?"

     The other girl nodded, shoulders slumping. "Ugh. Why I got beat out for that internship at Star Labs, I'll never know. My wingpack prototype alone should've earned it for me. Now I'm stuck at friggin' Heartland Tech."

     Angie frowned and signaled the waitress. "C'mon, Bales. Heartland's not so bad. At least you get paid. How many internships offer that?"

     "The one at Star Labs offered triple. And a mentorship program with labspace."

     "Wow. Always a bright side with you, huh?" Angie crossed her arms and glowered at her friend.

     Bailey shook her head. "Sorry, Angie. I'm just in a bitter mood today."

     "I noticed." Angela passed the waitress her card and smiled. "Thanks, Laurie. See you next Friday."

     "No problem, girls," Laurie chirped, brown eyes smiling. "Sorry you've had a bad day, Bailey. Hope it gets better soon."

     "Thank you," Bailey said, managing a smile. "I'm sorry to be a downer."

     Laurie laughed. "Nah, honey, don't worry about it. You're allowed to have bad days."

     Bailey nodded and wrapped her fingers around the blue ribbon in her pocket. "Yeah, I guess. Thanks."

     Laurie winked and held up the card. "Don't mention it. I'll be right back with this."

     A few minutes later, the two girls were sailing down Main Street in Angela's deep purple convertible. "So why _are_ they rescinding your day off?" Angela almost had to shout over the wind and radio, playing classic rock.

     Bailey shook her head. "Dunno," she shouted back. "Emmett's been super tight-lipped about whatever project he's working on. Louis is the only one he's talked to about it."

     "Huh." Angie frowned thoughtfully as she drove out of Southwood and on towards Central City. "Remind me, which one's which?"

     "Emmet James, Louis Gray," Bailey responded. They'd gone over this several times since the start of the internship, but she had gotten used to Angela's poor memory over the years.

     Angie nodded. "Right. That's interesting, though, that they're being so quiet. He hasn't even told the other intern...?"

     "Mitchell," Bailey supplied. "And no. Not so far as I'm aware, anyway."

     "Weird." Angela flicked the radio volume down as Trixie Trax and the Red Spades faded away. "Doesn't surprise me that they're trusting you before they bring Mitch into the fold, though. Something about him seems off."

     Bailey rolled her eyes. "Angie, c'mon. You're just saying that 'cause he tried to hit on you when you first met. He's a jerk, not a snake."

     The other girl shrugged. "Yeah, okay, maybe I'm biased. But can you blame me? He's a creep; I'm surprised he hasn't tried to make a move on you too, honestly."

     Bailey laughed. "Well, I _did_ tell him that if he ever tried to impose himself on someone like that again, I'd shove a Bunsen burner up his --"

     "You have arrived at your destination," the car's GPS chirped, in a pleasant London accent.

     "Thanks, Alice," Angela sighed, pulling into a shady parking space.

     Bailey grabbed her bag from the backseat and reached for the door handle. "Sure you don't want me to disable that? I mean, I know your Dad put it in special, but..."

     Angela shook her head, smiling faintly. "Nah, thanks. I get lost enough that she's more useful than annoying."

     Bailey gave her friend a quick one-armed hug. "Alright, well. If that ever changes, you've got my number, e-mail, and home address. Thank you for the ride."

     Angela leaned into the hug, detangling her left hand from the steering wheel to awkwardly pat Bailey's shoulder. "No problem, babe. Love you, and be safe! Call me if you get off late, alright? I don't want you walking all the way from the bus stop to home by yourself. Especially in the dark. My family would kill me if something happened to you."

     Bailey chuckled and slid out of the car. "Alright. Love you, drive home safe, okay?"

     "Will do!" Angela smiled and turned the ignition back on. "Have fun at work and try not to explode things if you can avoid it!"

     Bailey snorted and waved one last time, turning away as her friend pulled out. "No promises," she muttered to herself, swiping her ID card to unlock the door.

     Heartland Tech seemed, at first glance, to be a large garage masquerading as a small laboratory. Second and third glances gave further evidence to this, but on the fourth glance, something about the place seemed to fall together. Three long tables, scattered with circuitry and metal casings of different sizes, ran down the length of the room. Other projects covered the shelves along the walls, neatly packed in organized and labeled boxes. It seemed Emmet had been working late again, but Louis hadn't had a chance to come in and make his partner clean up the mess, which probably meant the two had been caught up in their secret project last night.

     As she expected, when she peered into the walled-off corner that kept the lab's overnight cot hidden from view, Doctor Emmet James had curled his massive form onto it, and fallen dead asleep.  
A soft hand landed on Bailey's shoulder. Surprised, she turned to see Doctor Gray standing behind her, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand and a finger pressed to his lips. His wide brown eyes looked tired, and his skin seemed paler than usual. Silently, the slender scientist turned and beckoned for Bailey to follow. He led her through the back door into the computer lab -- a ping-pong table picked up at a yard sale sporting the assorted PCs and laptops the lab claimed -- and stopped at the back wall.

     "Alright, Bailey. Emmett and I had to pull an all-nighter last night, something I'm sure you'd already caught on to. So we're gonna discuss this in here, so he can have his turn napping."  
Bailey suddenly felt very small. Nervous, she swallowed hard and felt her muscles tensing as she pasted on the most convincing innocent smile she could. If there was one thing Bailey excelled at, it was certainly not acting. Doctor Gray's unamused stare told her that much.

     "You've been working after-hours."

     Bailey blinked, visibly relaxing. "Is that all? Doctor, I promise, I've been marking my exit time on the clock. I just haven't been going home too quickly after."

     Gray sighed and set his mug down on top of a stack of milk crates currently serving as a bookshelf, using the now-freed hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "That isn't the point and you know it. I don't want you working on things without supervision. You could get hurt."

     Bailey shifted from foot to foot. "Well... I haven't. So maybe I'll be okay?"

     "No. Why is this such a secret, Bailey? Are you in trouble with someone?" He took a step forward and, placing both hands on Bailey's shoulders, bent his neck to look Bailey in the eye. "Bailey, what's going on? You can tell us. We can help you."

     Now very confused, and a little frightened, Bailey peeled the older scientist's arms away and stepped back. "No, no it's nothing like that. At all. Jeez. I've just been working on a personal project. I don't have the room at home, so I've been working on it here."  That was... Mostly the truth.  She'd been banned from working on the wingpack in the garage after the disaster that had been her last prototype test.

     Gray sighed with relief, running a hand down his face. "Oh, good. I didn't mean to scare you, Bailey, I just... A bright young mind like yours, a city this dangerous... Central City may not be Metropolis or Gotham, but we've got our own share of things to worry about."

     Bailey scoffed. "Yeah, Sergeant Frosty and that two-bit Joker knock-off. Please, even if I was a big enough presence for them to notice, all I'd have to do is scream and one of the Flashes'd show up. Two minutes, tops, and I'm free."

     "Still," Gray laughed softly. "Central City's not the safest place in the country. It's not even in the top ten. I just want to make sure you're safe."

     Bailey started to ask why he was so concerned, when a terrified shriek cut her off.

     Louis was already moving towards the door. "Emmet has night terrors sometimes," he hurriedly explained. "Stay here."

     Bailey blinked, confused, as the door into the workspace swung shut. Cracking it back open, she leaned out to see if she could find out what was going on.

     "Shh, it's okay." Doctor Gray's voice carried softly over the distance. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm safe. You're safe. We're safe. It's okay. I'm here..."

     Feeling like she was intruding on a private moment, Bailey slipped back into the room, making sure the door shut softly. With little else to do that didn't send her out into the workroom, she dragged a chair out from the table and plunked down heavily into it, scrolling idly through local news articles. Still full of clickbait involving alien invasions, speculation on Batman lurking around a Gotham millionare's home, and other nonsense. One was even going so far as to claim that Kid Flash had been replaced with a shorter alien clone. Bailey snorted and emphatically scrolled past that one. Flash and his sidekick hadn't been seen much since before the recent invasion, and even then it was mostly in places far away from Central City. Whoever had written that dumb article was probably just getting Kid and Speedy confused again. It was a common mistake.

     The door opened a few minutes later, and both doctors walked in, James making a beeline for the coffee machine. Doctor Gray sat down opposite Bailey, resuming his own mug of coffee. "So. You wanna tell me what's up with that personal project yet?"

     Bailey frowned, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "Why do you want to know about it so bad? I've been working on it for longer than I've been here. You've never shown interest in it before."

     The two senior scientists shared a look. "Bailey," James started, "we've been keeping some secrets of our own, truth be told."

     Gray nodded. "Secrets that we can't keep alone anymore. We need help, and we think we can trust you." He stared into his coffee. "But if you can't tell us what's going on with you..."

     Bailey was staring at her bosses, wondering if this was a dream. "... _Please_ tell me that this big scary secret is that you two are dating."

     Doctor James flinched and clapped a hand to his nose, spitting his mouthful of coffee back into the mug. Beside him, Doctor Gray blushed so hard he turned purple. "No," James said firmly, after a long enough moment that Bailey wasn't sure they _weren't_ dating. "No. No, that's not it."

     Bailey sighed and stood up from the table. "Well, if you two are involved in some shady biz, then why are you talking to me? Contact the police, or get ahold of the League or some other superhero. I'm just a kid."

     At the mention of the Justice League, both men tensed. "That... Is not an option for us," Doctor Gray replied slowly.

     Bailey crossed her arms. "I find that answer vague and unconvincing."

     In his own chair, Doctor James shrugged. "Sorry, Bales. It's all you're gonna get out of us until we know you're gonna work with us."

     Bailey swiped a hand down her face, then shook her head. "Look. I'm not sure I wanna get caught up in... Whatever's going on with you two. Just... Let me think about this? Please?"

     Doctor Gray nodded, raising a hand to cut off James' protest. "I understand. Please get back to us quickly, that's all we ask."

     "I'll... Try," Bailey replied, reaching for the door. "Any other bombs you wanna drop on me today?"

     Gray chuckled. "No. Go in peace."

* * *

 

     That night, Bailey was in her garage, scattered bits of metal and wire laying about. Her parents were gone for the evening, and she was alone in the house. It was a perfect opportunity for a test-run.

     She stepped into the straps of the wingpack, tightening the chestpiece down and adjusting the shoulder-straps. She'd gone ahead and taken the measure of wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, after the small disaster that had happened when she'd tried this out last time, in a tank top and shorts. Although the red marks the suit had left on her skin _had_ been an afterthought to the dents she'd left in the ceiling and walls, trying to avoid crashing into the car or the shelves and other obstacles as she struggled with the gravity control. Steeling herself, and trying not to wince at the patch in the plaster above her head, she tapped the switch on the chestpiece.

     It was a strange feeling, as gravity melted away in her vicinity. Around her, the bits of scrap she'd scattered around in a radial pattern floated up too -- although the field's reach wasn't as far as it had been, she was pleased to note. She was getting more lift too, supporting her hypothesis that the smaller the field got, the more powerful it became. Satisfied, she tapped the button again, letting herself drop back to earth.

     As she cleaned up the mess, she thought of Gray and James again. Whatever trouble they were in, it had to be serious. But what could she do about it? She was just a college student, nothing special. For a brief moment, she entertained the notion of becoming a superhero, using the wingpack to fight crime and save people.

     Folding the pack back up, Bailey snorted and shook her head, smiling at the idea. It was a nice fantasy, but she knew she wouldn't make a good superhero. She was too indecisive, too panicky. She didn't have the stamina to hold up to the kind of training that crimefighting would require either, and honestly lacked the motivation.

     She tucked the wingpack under her arm and started for the door. No, whatever the problem her bosses were having, it was better to leave it up to the real heroes. Right?

* * *

 

     That Monday, Bailey was surprised to find three strangers standing in the workroom, looking awkward and nervous. "Uh. Hello? Can I help you?"

     One of them, a woman who looked like she was in her early thirties, turned and smiled shyly at Bailey. "Hi. Is Doctor Gray or Doctor James in? My name's Nora. I'm here to volunteer for metagene testing?"

     Bailey stared at the woman. "I'm sorry, _what?"_

     Another of the strangers, a teenage boy with too-green eyes, glared at Bailey. "You deaf? We're here for the metagene testing. Lexcorp's paying by the hour, though, so if you're bosses don't show up for awhile, that's fine by me."

     Bailey shook her head.  "Heartland Tech is an engineering lab.  Are you sure you have the right place?"

     In response, the teenager shoved a flyer at her.  Sure enough, in clearly-printed text, was a call for anyone with a metahuman ability to report to Heartland for tests.  In the corner, the logos for Heartland Tech and Lexcorp stood side-by-side.  All in all, the flyer seemed shady and vague enough to make Bailey's spine tingle.

     The third volunteer, impossibly tall and thin, bit their lip anxiously and spoke, breaking Bailey from her daze. "Actually, I'd like to get home soon. I don't remember if I fed my cat this morning, and--"

     Bailey didn't hear the rest, already storming into the computer lab. She slammed the door open to see James and Gray standing in the corner, heads together, whispering furtively. _"This_ is your big secret," she roared, slamming the flyer down on the thin table. _"This_ is what you were so bent on getting my help with?!? Experiments on _living people?!?"_

     Doctor James stepped between Gray and Bailey, hands raised. "Bailey, no. It's not what you think--"

     "And _Lexcorp?! Seriously?_ Weren't they involved with those bugs that invaded _less than two months ago?!?"_

     "Bailey, please," Doctor Gray pleaded. "If you'll just _listen--"_

      _"No,"_ Bailey yelled, slamming a fist down on the table again. "No, I don't have to listen to a thing you say! I refuse to be a part of this! _I quit!"_ She ripped her ID card out of her pocket and flung it down on the table. It wasn't heavy enough to make a satisfying noise, but she settled for slamming both the computer lab and front entrance doors on her way out.

* * *

 

     Two hours later, she was angrily scrolling through the Justice League's website, hunting for a contact number. The site was poorly set up, which annoyed Bailey to no end. One would think, with the resources at the League's disposal, it wouldn't be that hard to find and hire a whole team of top-notch web managers. Still, she pushed on. Even if there wasn't anything obviously illegal about what Heartland Tech and Lexcorp were doing -- a quick Google search had told her that -- surely it warranted some kind of monitoring.

     At her door, a sharp knock sounded. "Bailey, sweetheart?" It was her father. "Can I come in?"

     Bailey sighed and shoved away from her desk. "Legally? I can't stop you. It's your house."

     She could practically hear her dad's eyes rolling. "If you don't want to talk," he called through the still-closed door, "then that's _fine._ I just want to make sure you're okay."

     Bailey chuckled to herself and opened the door. "I'm fine, Dad. I promise, nothing's wrong."

     Her dad looked skeptical. "Then why did you quit today?"

     Bailey sighed and ran a hand down her face. "I don't want to talk about it. It's... Call it a 'conflict of interest,' okay?"

     "...Okay. But when you're ready to talk, we're here, okay?" Bailey found herself wrapped in a crushing bear-hug. "I love you."

     "I love you too, Dad." Bailey smiled and waved as her father set her down and retreated down the stairs, shutting the door again once he was out of sight. "Now," she sighed, returning to her computer, "where was I...?"

* * *

 

     It was midnight, or a little after. Bailey had been sitting on hold for three and a half hours. She wasn't sure how late it was in Washington DC, but she knew they were a couple of timezones ahead. It had to be at least two in the morning there, maybe three. There was probably no one at the desk, and wouldn't be until morning. She didn't care, she needed to talk to someone, and she would be damned if she was going to give up her place in the queue over a little thing like sleep. It wasn't like there were real emergencies waiting on her -- Those were sorted separately by the answering machine and given priority. No, she was just stuck waiting with people wanting to arrange tours of the Hall and other, normal nonsense. Given that she didn't have proof that people were in immediate danger, she didn't have much choice about that. She flopped backwards on her bed, knocking a pair of stuffed animals off the comforter, and stared up at the superhero posters on the walls. The one above her computer desk, a stylized depiction of Flash and Kid Flash both in profile, racing across a blue background, had been signed a few years ago, when Bailey's father had bumped into them one night. They'd been getting pizza after patrol, and he'd stopped by the corner store after work. It was one of those moments of serendipity that you always thought happened to other people.

     Her sleepy reverie was interrupted by a voice over the phone. "Miss Adler?"

     Bailey sat straight up, nearly dropping the phone. "Yes hi hello I was awake."

     The man on the other end of the line seemed to laugh a bit. "I'm sure. Now, why are you calling us this evening?"

     Bailey staved off a yawn. "There's trouble going on in Central City."

     "Ma'am, I assure you, there is nothing going on over there that requires the attention of the League. Are you sure you wouldn't like to schedule a tour?"

     Bailey turned the phone away to let out a hiss of frustration. "I didn't stay on this line for almost four hours to schedule a tour, sir," she replied curtly. "Look, there might not be anarchy in the streets--"

     "Then call us back when there is. Have a nice night, Miss Adle--"

     "Waitwaitwait," Bailey gasped desperatley. "I just remembered, my friend's birthday is coming up, and she's wanted to go to the Hall of Justice since she was a kid. What's the soonest we can get a tour?"

* * *

 

     A week later, Bailey and Angela were stepping off the plane and into the nation's capitol. "I still can't believe you talked me into this," Angie growled, glaring at her friend. "Bailey, you are going to get me killed when we get home."

     "Relax, Angie." Bailey grinned up at the taller girl. "Your parents think I kidnapped you for a weekend spa getaway. I told 'em we wouldn't have cell service or wi-fi for the whole thing. We're home free."

     Angela rolled her eyes. "And why didn't we take pictures?"

     Bailey stopped, realizing the hole in her plan, then shrugged. "'Cause we were having too much fun? Why do I have to come up with everything?"

     "Because this is _your scheme,"_ Angela groused, throwing her hands in the air. "Ugh, whatever. I don't even care. Let's just go get our bags. I wanna get to the hotel and drop our things off before we have to be at the stupid tour."

     Bailey harrumphed. "The least you can do is be appreciative. This is your birthday present!"

     "My birthday was six months ago. You got me a box set of the cheesiest rom-coms you could find, a giant jar of cocoa mix, a stuffed rabbit, and new pajamas."

     "Well, this is for the next one," Bailey supplied lamely, trying not to be too embarrassed at her habit of spoiling her closest friend rotten.

     "No it's not," Angie said with a smirk. "We both know _you_ owe _me_ for this one."

     "Fiiiiine," Bailey sighed. By now, they had reached the carousel, their bags clearly marked in glitter-glue. That had been Angela's idea -- Suitcases were less likely to get stolen if it looked like the guy booking it had a little girl's baggage. Bailey snagged both the roller-bags off the slowly-spinning dias - her yellow-and-white striped one, and Angela's pink-and-lavender paisley - and the two of them headed out to get a taxi.

     Two and a half hours later, they were moving into the famed Hall with the rest of their tour group. "Okay," Bailey whispered, while the tour guide was babbling about some huge planetary threat from fifteen years ago that the League had taken out. "There's three families with small kids in this group, When the bathroom stop happens, we move with them."

     "Wait what?"

     "Keep your voice down," Bailey hissed. "Just stick with me, alright?"

     "O--Okay...?"

     Sure enough, all three sets of kids decided they had to use the restroom simultaneously. Their embarrassed parents scooped them up and ushered them off, apologizing profusely to the frustrated tour guide. Trying their best to look sheepish, Bailey and Angela murmured their own excuses and hurried to keep up with the others. As they approached the restrooms, Bailey grabbed Angela by the arm and yanked her behind a potted plant.

     "What are you _doing,"_ Angela growled, growing increasingly fed up with Bailey's antics.

     Bailey pressed a finger to her lips. "Why do you think we used them for cover? We wait for the kids to finish up, they go back, the tour moves on without us."

     Angela stared at Bailey for a long moment. "Wait. You're _actually_ trying to infiltrate the highest-security superbase on the face of the planet? This is _really_ happening?" She pressed her fingers to her temples. "Oh my god. _Oh. My. God._ I'm best friends with a crazy person."

     "Someone _will_ listen to me," Bailey replied, keeping one eye on the gaggle of parents and children as they herded everyone back towards the tour group, who were still on the same exhibit they'd left on. Moments later, the group moved out, minus two members.

      _"Alright!"_ Bailey couldn't hide a grin. "It worked!"

     "You didn't even know your plan was gonna work?!" Angela hurried after Bailey, who was already jogging down the hall. "I am gonna _strangle_ you if we get out of this alive!"

     Bailey stopped by a locked door and waved Angela forward. "Time for that later, cranky-pants. Now help me shim this lock."

     "With _what,_ my nails?" Angela pressed her forehead against the wall, seemingly haven given up all hope of reasoning with her friend.

     Bailey sat back on her heels, tipping her head to the side as she examined what she could see of the lock mechanism. "They are pretty long. Is that an offer?"

    _"No,"_ Angie snapped, tucking her hands close to her chest. "I got a professional manicure last weekend. _No way_ am I letting you shred it for your crazy schemes."

     "Can _I_ help you ladies?"

     Both girls spun, wide-eyed, to see a tall, blond man dressed in green standing behind them. His arms were crossed over his chest, but a hint of a smile tugged at his face. Mirth aside, Angela knew even she wasn't fast enough to escape him. Instead she let herself slump to the floor in defeat, head falling into her hands.

     "Bailey? _If_ we get home alive, I'm gonna kill you."


	2. Chapter Two

     The couch was uncomfortable and the cookies were stale. Neither of these, however, bothered Bailey as much as the silent, icy glare Angie was giving her.

     "So," Green Arrow said, setting a tray of sodas down on the coffee table and settling into an armchair. "Why, exactly, were you two trying to break into a locked room?"

      _"She_ was the one doing the breaking in," Angie snapped, never once taking her gaze off of Bailey. _"I_ had no part in this scheme. I didn't even know what she was _doing_ until it was happening."

     The archer raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe that?"

     "It's true, sir," Bailey hastened to interject. "I... I only said I was bringing her along here, and she'd find out why later. I knew she'd talk me out of it."

     He frowned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. "Miss... Adler, was it? Miss Adler, I appreciate your honesty and your loyalty to your friend here. Now I need you to continue being honest with me. What were you planning on doing here?"

     Bailey gulped, staring at the floor. "I wanted to talk to Flash. Or, y'know, anyone really. But mostly Flash." She picked her head up, heart hammering as she realized how she sounded. "I-- I wasn't gonna hurt him or, or do anything bad or crazy, I swear!"

     The archer nodded gently, raising a comforting hand. "You went to a lot of trouble to talk to us. It takes a special kind of determination to do what you've done. I'm glad you understand that what you did is not allowable and why, but I need to know why you're here. Why do you want to talk to Flash specifically? Did someone send you here?"

     "No, no," Bailey stammered. "Not at all. I came here 'cause, well, I'm from Central, or just outside of it, and--"

     Arrow smiled wanly. "I understand that Flash has a special relationship with his city. You must be worried, with him absent so much."

     Bailey nodded. "I am, I mean, we are. But--"

     Arrow nodded again, standing, and motioned for the girls to follow him up. "Flash is fine," he said firmly. "Central City just doesn't need him right now." Gently, he set a guiding hand on Bailey's elbow, and nudged her to the door.

     "Yes it _does,"_ Bailey insisted, planting her feet and yanking her arm away. "You have to listen--"

     Arrow's face darkened as he crossed his arms. "Miss Adler, please know that the Justice League is aware of any and all criminal activity going on in Central City right now. There is nothing going on there that requires the intervention of people like us. If something bad is going on, we urge you to report it to your local police or other authorities. It's safer for everyone that way."

     "What's safer for everyone?"

     Bailey's head snapped around so fast her neck popped. A familiar red-haired teenager in yellow had stepped through the door, already making a beeline for the cookies and cans of soda on the table.

     "Kid!" Bailey jumped forward, grinning, and started to reach for the young super's shoulder. Realizing what she was doing, she pulled her arm back, looking sheepish. "Kid Flash, I need to talk to you. It's important." Behind her, Bailey could hear Angie groan and flop back onto the couch.

     The speedster frowned around the three cookies stuffed in his mouth, pulling a fourth away from his face. "What's important? Who are you?"

     "My name's Bailey Adler. There's something bad going on in Central. We need you and Flash back."

     He swallowed the cookies, taking a swig of cola to wash them down. "Uh, sorry, but..." He glanced over Bailey's shoulder, making eye contact with Arrow. "...Me and Flash are needed on other things right now. But as soon as we can, I promise we'll be there to help. What's going on, and have you spoken to the CCPD yet?"

     Angie barked a harsh laugh, earning a glare from Bailey. The latter cleared her throat and twisted her hands behind her back. "Well, there's nothing explicitly illegal going on right now, but--"

     "Then our hands are tied," Kid Flash said firmly, stuffing the rest of the cookies into a pocket and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's nothing we can do." His gaze was sympathetic but steely as he looked up at Bailey. She could tell he meant what he was saying.

      _Wait._

     Bailey's brow furrowed as she frowned. "...You're short."

     "Have been my whole life. What's that got to do with anything?"

     Bailey shook her head. "No, I've seen you in news clips. Interviews and stuff. You're taller than I am, or you were."

     "Time works differently for speedsters."

     Bailey opened her mouth to say she was getting tired of vague and unconvincing answers, but Arrow's glove landing hard on her shoulder caught her attention.

     "I think it's time for you ladies to go now," he said, in a voice that Bailey knew she couldn't argue with.

     As she stepped to the door, she looked back over her shoulder at the superheroes. "Heartland Tech. Just... Keep an eye on them for me, please?"

* * *

 

     On the plane ride back, two days later, Bailey was still angry with their dismissal.

     "Stop pouting." Angie's anger had begun to soften, but her tone was still edged with exhaustion and annoyance. "Did you really expect them to give you the time of day after you _broke into their_ _house?"_

     Bailey sighed, glaring out the window. "It's not their house, no one lives there. They live in a giant apartment complex in space."

     "That is literally only in a cartoon."

     "Superman lives in an ice palace on the north pole. Batman and the rest of the Justice League could totally be living in apartment buildings on the moon. You don't know."

     "Neither do you. This is a stupid argument."

     "Yeah, it is," Bailey agreed. "I'm just... I'm not even sure why I'm angry. I knew this was gonna happen. No one cares about a freaking thing that happens in the Midwest. I mean, Brainiac and Grodd could build a giant freaking death-telescope in Nebraska and literally no one would bat an eye."

     Angie frowned, putting her fashion magazine down. "Bales, I don't think that's true--"

     "It _is,"_ Bailey insisted, bolting upright and startling the woman in the seat ahead of her awake. "It is," she repeated, quieter. "I mean, look at the cities where the superheroes are actually doing things. Star City, Metropolis, Gotham, Coast City... Noticing a pattern? Central City was the only place in the flyovers that had any supercrime, and now the superheroes are avoiding it like the plague."

     Angie shrugged uncomfortably. "Bailey, I'm pretty sure that's not accurate. And, I mean, it's not like there's been any real supercrime in Central since the invasion."

     Bailey shook her head. "Angie, it's been going on since long before that. Hadn't you noticed that Flash was gone for most of the year, and that Kid Flash was gone more often than not, hanging out around _Rhode Island_ of all places? That Impulse kid was here for awhile too, yeah, but he's up and vanished now. Central City, and really everywhere that isn't on the damn coasts, has been left high and dry."

     Angie pursed her lips, brow furrowing. "Hon, I don't think you're being fair here."

     "Are _they,"_ Bailey countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

     Angie just shook her head. "There's no arguing with you on this, is there?"

     "Nope."

     "Fine, fine. Just... Please don't do anything stupid, okay?" Angie's anger was completely gone now, and her tone held nothing but concern.

     "...Okay." Bailey gnawed on her lip. She hated lying to her friends.

* * *

 

     It wasn't anything too stupid, she decided. She was just hanging out at the coffee shop across the street from Heartland Tech's main lab. It wasn't even anything that seemed out of the ordinary for a kid between college semesters. Just grabbing some coffee while working on designs for a project. A project that was almost ready to take to the final stages. There was nothing dangerous about that.  
Sitting in her booth seat, she calmly watched Heartland's front doors through the reflection in her laptop screen. With headphones on, her feet on the seat beside her, and her stuff spread across the table, she considered herself fairly safe from unexpected company.

     Until someone plunked down in the seat across from her.

     Bailey picked her head up, surprised, slipping the headphones down around her neck. "Uh. Who the heck are you?"

     The dark-haired young man grinned. "Someone friendly. Didn't mean to interrupt, I was just wondering what you were working on."

     Bailey narrowed her eyes, tucking her sketchbook close to her chest. "Nothing I'd like to share, thank you."

     "That's fair," the guy shrugged. He was pretty, Bailey had to admit. High cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and a skin tone hovering just on the edge between tan and copper. He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt that did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and lean arms. His nose was crooked, like it had been broken a time or three before, but somehow that only added to his charm.

     "Thinking of making me your next subject?"

     Bailey flinched, realizing she'd been staring. "N-no. Sorry, I just, um. I don't see strangers around here very often."

     "It's a big city. You must know a lot of people, then."

     Bailey shook her head. "No, not really. People just don't come around _here,_ specifically, unless they work here or live in Southwood." She shifted, turning in the seat to face the stranger, angling the laptop so she could still keep one eye on Heartland.

     "Southwood," he asked, taking a sip of his iced-whatever.

     Bailey nodded. "Um, yeah. You're not from around here, huh? It's a little town, just a couple of ten miles thataway." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I grew up out there. Still live there, at least during the summers."

     He nodded. "College student, then? Awesome. Where do you attend?"

     Bailey raised an eyebrow. "I've asked you two questions, neither of which you've answered, and you seem awfully curious about me and my life."

     He smiled, leaning on one elbow. "What, can't a guy flirt with a pretty girl in a coffee shop anymore?"

     Bailey narrowed her eyes. "No. No he can't."

     He shook his head and shrugged, standing up. "Suit yourself. Oh, by the way. If you're gonna spy on folks, maybe turn the laptop on. Anyone with critical thinking skills could look through the window and see what you're up to."

     Bailey's eyes widened. "Wh-what...?"

     He grinned and waved. "Hey, at least I'm on your side, Red. Just wanted to let you know that you're not the only one thinking there's something fishy here." And with that, the strange young man sauntered away, leaving Bailey bewildered and strangely comforted.

* * *

 

     Bailey shook her head, glaring at the tangled mess of wires and servos before her. Her stakeout at the coffee shop had been a bust, since she hadn't been able to focus properly after that smug creep had shown up. So, she was channeling her frustrations into her work, as she always did.

     She was sitting in Southwood Park's old baseball diamond, working by the light of a few bright LED lanterns scattered about. With all the progress she was making on focusing the wingpack's antigrav and strengthening it, the garage ceiling had become too limiting. It was better and easier to work out here, where there was no one to disturb her but the occasional curious raccoon. A family of them were sitting nearby, watching her. Bailey could see their eyes glinting in the lantern's glow. She didn't mind the audience, although it had taken some time and effort to get used to the feeling of someone's eyes on her.

 _Who the hell was he,_ Bailey thought to herself, twisting a pair of copper wires back together. _Jackass, telling me how to spy on people. Like I'd asked for his opinion. Not like he's an international_ superspy _or anything, why should he know better than me? What gives him the right to go around sticking his nose in other people's business anyways? Jerkface._

     Lost in thought, it took Bailey a moment to realize she'd twisted the wires until they snapped. Sighing in frustration, Bailey started carefully unpicking the rest of the machinery to unhook the wires and get replacements in.

* * *

 

     It was early morning as Bailey hopped out of her battered little pickup and slipped back in the house, wingpack tucked under one arm. The pre-dawn light streamed through the windows, filling the living room with a soft, sleepy glow. Pippa, her mother's old cat, was curled up in her favorite spot on the windowsill, and she lifted her fluffy gray-and-white head as Bailey passed her, offering a chirp in greeting. Smiling, the redhead reached down to scratch behind the little cat's striped ears, chuckling as Pippa twisted and rubbed her face against Bailey's palm, wrapped her paws around the wrist, and started playfully biting at Bailey's fingers.

     Bailey tugged her hand free and tapped Pippa on the nose. "I take it you're hungry, you darling little gremlin."

     Pippa gave a happy purr, and hopped from the windowsill to Bailey's shoulders. The human stumbled a moment at the unexpected weight, but didn't shoo the cat off. Pippa had turned sixteen that May, she reasoned. A cat that old deserved to be indulged a little.

     In the kitchen, Pippa hopped off Bailey and onto the counter, allowing Bailey to reach into the cabinet and pull out the bag of cat food, scooping some into the bowl. Pippa wove a figure-eight around Bailey's ankles, purring in gratitude, before settling down to her breakfast. With a rumble from her stomach, Bailey remembered that she'd skipped dinner the previous night in favor of working on the wingpack. As pleasant as taking a shower and a nap sounded, she needed to eat first.

     Grabbing a blueberry yogurt out of the fridge and a spoon out of the drawer, Bailey plunked down on the couch and turned the TV on, hoping it would help keep her awake. There was a young reporter on the screen, chattering about some lost ducklings getting rescued from a storm drain by some firefighters. Bailey tried to pay attention, but her mind began to wander as she munched on the yogurt. She was staring into space, thinking about nothing in particular, when suddenly the television screen lit up red. Bailey turned, surprised, to see the 'Breaking News' eyecatch cut away to a dark-haired woman standing in front of a burning building.

     "This is Melanie Reed, for Central City News, on the scene of a potential arson at Redmire Port, where three warehouses have been entirely consumed by fire." She motioned to the cameraperson, and the scene panned over and zoomed in on the inferno behind them. The scene swarmed with firemen, intent on putting out the blaze. "As you can see," Reed continued from offscreen, "emergency response teams are doing their best to contain the fire. Thankfully, all three warehouses were empty at the time of the fire, and no one has been injured. Still, we're left with questions: Who set the buildings ablaze and why, and where are our heroes?"

     The camera turned back to Reed's face, her hazel gaze intense and her jaw set. "We have a glimpse of the suspect, witnessed fleeing the scene as authorities arrived early this morning." The camera zoomed out a little bit, and a photo appeared, showing a blur of black and orange leaping from the rooftops, ducking into the shadows. The photo shrank and slid to the side, letting the screen show the steely-eyed reporter again. "This person appears to be some kind of costumed criminal, attacking our city in the absence of our heroes." Reed's tone was coldly professional. Bailey suspected the woman was enraged, but doing her best to hide it for the sake of her job. "Again, no one was harmed in this attack, but we cannot be sure that will continue to be the case. If anyone has any information on this mysterious arsonist or on the Flash's whereabouts, they are asked to call the Central City police department at--" Bailey turned the TV off and threw her yogurt cup into the little trash can beside the television cabinet.

     It was true that the Flash had always had a unique relationship with Central City -- and with Keystone, their sister city across the river, although to a lesser extent. He was less reclusive and otherworldly than Superman or any of the Green Lanterns, nowhere near as enigmatic as Batman or Wonder Woman, and not treated with the lingering suspicion that many still viewed the Hawks with. He was loved by Central City as a whole, and he loved the citizens back fiercely. He was friendly, seeming to know many people by name and always glad to come talk at a school or event. He was always there on the scene of any disaster, major or minor, ready to help if he needed to. He helped promote fundraisers for the city, sent get-well cards to everyone in the Children's Wing at Central City Hospital, and had become a regular fixture at several homeless shelters and orphanages around the holidays, though he volunteered when he could year-round. He cared, not just about the safety of the people under his protection, but about their lives. Maybe that was why it was so bewildering that he was absent now.  
Whatever his reasons, Bailey was too tired, mentally, physically, and emotionally, to do anything else but sleep. She went through the kitchen to reach the stairs, throwing her spoon into the sink as she passed it, and lumbered up to her room.

* * *

 

     The next morning, Bailey was rocking back and forth on her heels outside Central City's police department. She was running out of options, and -- with or without proof of anything actually illegal -- she had to do something. Taking a deep breath, she strode into the building.

     Inside, the tension was so thick Bailey was sure she could cut it with a knife. The building's air-conditioning had apparently broken, too, which made things all the worse in the August heat. Walking up to the front desk, Bailey smiled and nodded at a young woman with frizzy dark hair, furiously tapping at a keyboard. A moment later, the woman turned away from the computer with a frustrated sigh, but fixed Bailey with an attempt at a grin. "Hello," she said, clearly trying to make her voice sound less strained and exhausted than it already was. "My name is Alexa Cross. How may I help you?"

     Bailey drummed her knuckles against the desk nervously. "Uh, well. I, I don't know how exactly to go about this, but..."

     Alexa pushed her glasses back up her wide nose and stood, catching Bailey's hand. "Relax," she murmured. "Are you here to report a crime?"

     Bailey took a deep breath, feeling the tension in her shoulders dissipate. "No, not exactly. But there's something suspicious going on at Heartland Tech."

     Alexa cocked her head to the side, her eyes never once leaving Bailey's. "Suspicious how?"

     "Well," Bailey felt a spike of anxiety threaten to close her throat off, then felt it recede just as quickly. "They're an engineering lab. But now they're working with Lexcorp to do experiments involving metagenes?" She shrugged. "It just... It feels off to me."

     Alexa nodded slowly. "Well, Miss... I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

     "Bailey. Bailey Adler."

     "Miss Adler, scientific labs and their research often cross over many different fields. Is it possible that Heartland Tech and the people working there are just trying to expand their current research?"

     Bailey frowned, but Alexa's words made sense. "...Maybe. That... That sounds logical. Maybe I'm just getting caught up in my own head."

     Alexa nodded and patted Bailey's shoulder with her free hand. "There, see? Everything has a solid explanation. Is there anything else you'd like to tell us? Anything that might have added to these worries?"

     Bailey remembered the talk she'd had with James and Gray the day before she found out about the testing, the fear and trepidation she'd seen on their faces. Part of her wanted to tell Alexa everything, to explain the whole situation. But there was still the niggling voice in the back of her head, the feeling like she would be betraying a trust if she did so. "...No," Bailey said after a long moment. "No, nothing else. Thank you for your time."

     As Bailey walked out of the station, she couldn't help but feel tense again, like someone was watching her. As she walked back to the car and turned the key, the feeling faded. Still, she knew something was up with Heartland Tech. She just had to find some proof, something more solid than a hunch.

* * *

 

     The following morning, Bailey was sitting outside the same coffee shop at a little bistro table, drinking an overpriced bottled lemonade and munching on some sort of fancy, chocolate-filled pastry with a French name. It looked better than it tasted. She'd tucked her hair up into a Central City Stars cap, and sat with an old textbook on her lap, watching the lab out of the corner of her eye while she pretended to jot down notes. She just had to get a little evidence, that was all. Spot someone shady coming or going, maybe that costumed arsonist the CCPD was still hunting for. That'd get them on the case. Just get some evidence, then go to the cops. Spying was easy, once you figured out the basics.

     "Bailey?"

     Bailey snapped her head up, her sunglasses falling askew, to see a tall, broad-shouldered young man with a scraggly beard and his brown curls swept up into what might have been an attempt at a bun. Mitchell Ross, her former fellow intern, had a paper bag of pastries in one hand and a cardboard drink carrier in the other, three steaming styrofoam cups inside.

     "Hey! I thought it was you." He set the food and drinks down and yanked the other chair out from under Bailey's feet, spinning it around and dropping into it, his arms crossed over the back. "Summer homework? What class?"

     Bailey just glared at him. "Stop talking to me and go back to work."

     Mitchell pouted but made no attempt to stand. "Aw, come on, there's no need to be rude. We're not coworkers anymore, but we can still be friends, right?"

     "We were never friends."

     Mitchell sighed. "Aw, Bailey, don't be like that. I mean, what are the chances we'd meet here today? That you'd pick this particular coffee shop to work in, that the lab's coffee maker broke down today... Clearly, this is _fated."_

     Bailey's face twisted as she tipped her chair away from him and tried not to vomit. "Do you even hear yourself right now? I swear to God, Michell, I may not have a Bunsen burner on me right now but I can _improvise."_

     Instead of quietly leaving like Bailey had hoped -- he'd seemed pretty cowed by her threat before, after all -- he seemed to puff up and get angry. His face twisting, he surged up from the chair, knocking it over. "Fine, fine! Be like that! I was just trying to be nice, but apparently you're too much of an ice queen to care. God damn, what is this world coming to when a guy can't even--"

      **"MITCHELL EVAN ROSS."**

     Both Bailey and Mitchell turned to see Doctor James stalking across the street, a furious look on his face. His head brushed the edge of the bistro table's umbrella as he stopped, looming over the intern. "Mitchell. Are you bothering this young woman?"

     "No," the younger man started to protest, reaching to right the chair. "No, not at all. We were just catching up, I swear--"

     "And 'catching up' now involves screaming at people and making a public scene because they didn't want to talk to you?"

     Bailey glanced around and realized that everyone on the sidewalk and sitting at the coffee shop's outdoor tables had turned to stare at them. She shrank down in her chair, suddenly horrified that she was now the center of attention. "I-- I tried to tell him to go away," Bailey mumbled, hating the way her voice cracked.

     Doctor James nodded. "I'm sure you did, Bailey." He turned again to Mitchell. "You, though? You're _fired."_

      _"What!"_ Mitchell's jaw fell open, then clenched tight. "Why? You can't do this to me without a reason!"

     "I have plenty of reason," James snapped. "You were slacking off and talking to people when you were supposed to be on an errand, using Heartland's time like your own. You made a very public scene just now, which reflects badly on us. Your behavior has been decidedly unprofessional since we hired you, but we've given you as many second chances as you're going to get. Hand over your ID badge, _now."_

     Mitchell snarled and yanked his badge off of his lanyard, slapping it into James' waiting hand. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed away, muttering under his breath.

     Doctor James just sighed and watched him go. Bailey tracked him as well, grateful that he was leaving in the opposite direction from where she'd left her car. Her heart was pounding still, but a few deep breaths later she was able to focus and will her hands to stop shaking.

     "You alright?" Doctor James' face was full of concern. "I mean, I know you're something of a firecracker yourself -- experienced it firsthand -- but I also know people like that can scare the hell out of _me_ sometimes. Would you like me to walk you to your car?"

     Bailey swallowed hard, her fists clenching and unclenching against her thighs. "Um. Yeah, actually. I'd really appreciate that."

     The short walk to the little silver-and-blue pickup was quiet, neither party speaking until Bailey unlocked the car and opened the driver's door, tossing her textbook and notepad inside. "Uhm, thanks," she said, turning to Doctor James. "I know I didn't leave Heartland on good terms, so it means a lot that you'd do this for me."

     James shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I keep the people I like safe. It's... What I do." He frowned, sighed, and turned back to Bailey. "You know... You're always welcome with us. We liked having you around, Louis and I. If you ever want to come back, we have a space for you."

     Bailey smiled ruefully as she pulled herself up into the driver's seat. "You still working with Lexcorp and doing genetic experiments when Heartland's an engineering lab and it makes literally zero sense?"

     "It'd make more sense if you were in on it."

     Bailey laughed. "I suppose that's true. But I can't be part of things while Lexcorp's involved and you're testing on living human people. Or non-human people," she added, tilting her head to the side. "It's not really fair to limit my ethical issues to the native species of this planet."

     Doctor James nodded. "You stick to your beliefs. I like that about you, kid. Don't lose that."

     Bailey smiled. "I don't plan to. But if you and Gray ever need my help, you have my number. I owe you one after this."

     James snorted and stepped back so Bailey could shut her door. "You don't owe me a thing, Adler. You just take care of yourself, alright?"

     Bailey nodded and swung the door shut. "If you do the same." He smiled and waved in reply as she backed out of the parking lot and turned for home.  It wasn't until she was miles down the road that she realized both Mitchell and Emmet had been able to see through her disguise. Maybe this whole spying thing was harder than she'd thought.

* * *

 

     It was three in the morning when Bailey's phone rang, waking her up from a dream she'd later recall hazily as one of the strangest ones she'd ever had. Scrambling for the bedside lamp in the dark, she flipped the switch with her right hand and scooped up her cell with her left, swiping the 'answer' button up and pressing it to her ear. "Hullo," she asked, rubbing the heel of her hand against her eye. "Who may I ask is speaking?"

     Doctor Gray's panicked voice sounded on the other end. "Bailey? Bailey, come quick, we need--" The rest of his sentence was cut off by shouting, crashing, and then a heavy silence as the call was dropped.

     Bailey sat upright in bed, flinging the blankets off her legs and struggling into her discarded slippers. "Doctor Gray? Louis? Are you there?" No sound came from the other end. Bailey pulled the phone away and looked down at the phone, seeing her home-screen staring back at her. "Shit," she hissed. "When I said 'call if you need help,' I don't think this is what I meant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank-you to the people that make this possible, my friends, family, and readers. You guys are the best. <3


	3. A Quick Word from the Author

Hi! So sorry this isn't a proper chapter, I promise I'm working on it. Life's just a pain in the rump. But the s3 trailer dropped this weekend, so I just wanted to establish one thing.

This work is completely canon-divergent after the events of YJ: Invasion. This is my own little self-indulgent AU where the words are made up and the canon doesn't matter.  That goes for all the works in this series, by the way.  It's taken me so long to get this much done, I don't think I could possibly hope to rewrite everything to be canon compliant before we get six more seasons and a movie.  I'm kind of terrible like that.  Anyway, it's late, and I don't have the brain to remember what else I wanted to say.  Hope this is coherent.

Also, if it's past midnight where you are while you're reading this, this is your friendly reminder that you need to drink some water and go to sleep.  Yes, it's 1:30 here, at the time of this posting.  Yes, I am a hypocrite.  No, I do not care.  Sweet dreams, friend!


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